<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>My Desolate Mind by Quiterstrip</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619982">My Desolate Mind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiterstrip/pseuds/Quiterstrip'>Quiterstrip</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Diaries of Magnus Bane [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Diary/Journal, Gen, Immortal Magnus Bane, Insecure Magnus Bane, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Other, POV Magnus Bane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:09:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiterstrip/pseuds/Quiterstrip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time in the 1800's</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Diaries of Magnus Bane [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Desolate Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello there!</p><p>This is my first post.<br/>if you by some miracle discover this, I hope you enjoy this short entry.<br/>In the mean time I am just indulging myself with the romantic mind of Magnus Bane.<br/>:-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>My Desolate Mind</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What do one call it when one perceives oneself to be vulnerable or inferior?  Is it just a case of being insecure or feeling unease when you walk into a room of friends and acquaintances, people smiling at you as if you are bringing the light into the dark?  Is it fear of knowing what they really think?</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do they see the truth? All the things in my mind that I can not discard when I walk through this door of my melancholy life?  They are all gone.  I have lost count of all the ones I have loved that left me behind and returned me into myself.  The mask I wear when I put on my powders and rouge, my attire like a costume, the red wine and nimble remarks; the lies, to hide the words I really want to speak.  If only I could extrude these weak pieces of myself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>These tired eyes and hollow skin, the deceit of immortality, they remind me of all the places I have been.  All the streets I have walked from a rendezvous, loveless and empty.  A moment of bliss to extinguish the loneliness.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I feel so far from the people I surround myself with in the hope of feeling something true.  I feel like I exist inside my own ghost.  When I return home, high on attention and intoxicated with drink, I believe I have gone to sleep in heaven only to wake up in hell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If I am going to persevere through this momentarily, then I will have to save myself.  Consume the opportunities of the present.  Live on the hope that a brand-new day arrives tomorrow and bring with it the prospects that I failed to pursue. I have to discover the true love of oneself.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I believe there is so much more I can be. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>